The Memory
by maskofjack
Summary: Jack returns from the Island to realize he can't remember who he truly is, until a girl from his past helps him. T for Jack/OC. Reviews are greatlyyy appreciated. : expect a sequel, I have an idea.
1. The Breakdown

He stepped off of the boat and the sun met his eyes, causing him to squint. He was always prone to sun blindedness. He looked around at the crowd. Of course, it was going wild and calling the names of its loved ones.

"Sam! Eric!" a woman screamed, two twin girls running to meet their brothers. He thought: _maybe twins run in their family?_ They looked around, waiting for directions. They always waited and never took charge. It was something he simply couldn't understand. Constantly waiting and never being the leader. He liked to be the lead—

"Ralph! Attention, front AND center!" He shuddered at the name, tear forming in his blue eyes as the memories returned, flowing through his mind's eye with such vivid malice. He longed to apologize, to right his wrongs. A new hatred replaced his disdain for Ralph. It was a dislike for Ralph's cold, tyrannical father. Navy man or not, how couldn't he see the pain in his son's eyes? He needed an embrace. He needed love, not a dictator.

"Jack!" his name cut through the air, but from where? He still couldn't see. _Maybe this is how Piggy felt after they'd stolen his glasses._ Then he saw that shock of red hair belonging to none other than his mother. She grabbed him and sobbed hysterically. Faces turned to them, a spectacle. Those faces. He saw their cuts. He saw their bruises. He saw their shame. He saw their guilt. Back here in civilization they remembered how they were supposed to behave. They remembered what wasn't okay. What they'd done. He suffocated as the guilt strangled him, starving his lungs of oxygen and making him dizzy. He swayed and fainted.

Suddenly he was back on the Island, screaming in his warpaint and watching the thicket burn. Hideous laughter filled his throat, evolving into a snarl that echoed through to forest.

"FORM A LINE!" he growled, madness overtaking his features. His boys, like a murder of crows, swayed in the heat, congregating and waiting. This was the hunt that would define him as chief! Him!

Suddenly, with a screams and a shock of golden human hair, Ralph shot out of the bush. He broke the line, red rover. The pack broke, the murder chasing its prey. It closed in, and he heard screaming, though Ralph ran silent.


	2. He Knew Her

He awoke to the sound of his own terrified screams. He was alone in a white room. White washed walls, padded white flooring, a bed with a white bed spread, a white chair, and a window made up the room. White comforter and white curtains were on the bed and windows. White. Of course they'd use white. White. That color. Purity. Innocence. White was like a virgin's wedding dress, never stained, never harmed. He destroyed innocence. It was obvious. Look at what happened with Simon. Jack Merridew, it was his job to destroy that innocence. He had done it once, he would do it again.

A door (white) opened and a man in a lab coat (white) stepped into the room. He was followed by a girl, about Jack's age, wearing jeans and sneakers.

"Jack Merridew." The man said.

"I am not Jack. And I am not Merridew. I am the _chief._" He felt the need to make this known. He wasn't Jack.

The girl looked away to cover a small smirk. The man looked hard at her, daring her to make another mistake. She seems less than phased.

"This is Rae." The man said, "she will be speaking with you." Rae grinned at Jack.

She looked hard at his as the man left the room.

"Jack."

He knew her. She was Rogers… sister? It was so hard to remember life before the Island.

"R-Rae, why are you here?" he stuttered.

"I got into a fight with some girl in the park and they said I needed to learn about the effects of violence or something like that." She said. Then added, "why are you here, Jack?"

"Because I changed."

She grinned at him and he felt something for her. But… what was it? He knew it was more than friendship but… he was a shell of his former self. And that shell didn't know emotion.

"I know." She said.

"C-can you tell me who I was?" He asked, half pleading. If he could just remember…

"No," she said playfully, "It'sa secrettttt!"

"I have a RIGHT to know." He said, anger lacing his words. His blood boiled. The shell remembered anger.

"You DO know," she said defensively, "the answers are inside of you. Find them."

"I'll find them faster if you'd just tell me."

"No, that's not remembering. That's just me telling stories." She said, decidedly. He remembered that she was really smart and confident in every word that slipped out of those lips. "Don't worry, Jack. I have a plan." Then she walked right out the door. She just LEFT. The day went on. He was inspected by too many doctors and was finally allowed to sleep. He had another nightmare:

He was surrounded by pitch black darkness with the characteristic murkiness of ink. He was looking for the "Beastie." Stupid kids. There was never a real "Beastie", nothing that could be sensed, nothing physical. But the chief knew that he could control them by their fear. Simon went back to tell Piggy what was taking so long.

"Oh, we mustn't worry Piggy." He spat, causing words laced with hate and malice.

In the silence he weaved through trees, pretending to look for his "target." Idiotic children.

Did they really beli---

"Why do you hate me?" Spoken by none other than Ralph. And before he could turn, the dream was overtaken by sobbing.


	3. The School

"Jack! Jack wake up!" Rae was yelling, shaking him with a much greater force than he expected from her small frame. He liked his grip, his hands on his arm, her eyes bearing into his, concern written over her face. He pretended to stay asleep, hoping she'd keep grabbing him. Then she started hitting him with a pillow to make him wake up.

"RAE! Stop it! I'm awake!" he laughed. _Laughter_. The word seemed so alienated, ostracized, and segregated from some other word, such as "hideous" or "malicious", words with which it was commonly paired. He liked how she made him feel… like a good person. Like he wasn't always horrible.

"WELL MAYBE," she said, hiding her obvious concern and fear, "you should stop playing opossum and act like you have some sense!"

He grinned at her, an unfamiliar pull of the muscles. He was usually smirking or beaming at someone else's misfortune. "I don't."

She handed him some clothes and he realized that he had been in a hospital gown (white). He ripped it off in front of her, but for her sakes, she didn't see anything.

"JACK!" she yelled, anger and embarrassment coloring her features. She was one of the innocent girls. But innocence, he always destroyed it. Her. What if he destroyed--- no. He couldn't.

He finally put his clothing on and realized that Rae was no longer with him. Out of an open window he saw her, sitting on the tree branch waiting for him. She was insane. She had to be. They were at least on the third floor. But… maybe "insane" isn't the word the protagonist prefers? Perhaps she was "brave." Yes. Brave. He remembered that about her.

"Coming, Jack?" she asked, an inquisitive and devious twinkle in her eye and those perfect lips spread into a large-than-life grin that somehow fit on the petite little face.

"We're just LEAVING? Not asking for PERMISSION? We're just gonna go?" she couldn't be serious, could she? Could she really pull him out of this comfort zone? This room where he could be Jack, the Chief, or Jack the Shell? "Seriously?"

"Why. So. Serious?" she mimicked the Joker. A smile crossed his face. She was so funny. Always. He remembered that too.

They climbed out of the room, down the tree, and took off running when they hit the ground. They laughed, collapsing in front of an old school. She lay on the ground attempting to breathe, to catch her breath. He remembered she wasn't extremely athletic, but she tried, and it made her seem cute. He wanted to lean over her and kiss her but… what if the Chief came out biting her? What if he inflicted some other absurd and disturbing act of "affection." He just wanted to cradle and hold her.

But.. in a sense he had just met her . The more he remembered, the more he liked. Could a shell of a person love? Was he a shell of his former self? And could he ever truly be complete?

He looked over at her—or to where she had been. _Where did that crazy girl go?_ She was always so… spontaneous. _Oh. My. Gosh. _ He thought, realizing she had climbed on top of that school's roof and was sitting on the edge, hugging her jacked against her. But why should he be surprised?

"Jaaaaack! Get up here! Nowwww!" she called. He couldn't resist that playful and yet pleading tone.

He climbed to where she was perched and stared around him. But why was he here? How was _this _place important? He examined his surroundings and noticed a swing set, which his mind associated with… crying?

A smaller Jack leaned by a swing set, talking to another boy about the _proper _way to sing and a smaller Rae ran up in tears.

"Jack he's doin' it again!" little Rae cried.

""Who's doin' what, Rae?" Normally he had to act like a jerk around the GIRLS, but not Rae. Rae was special. She was different. And crying.

"Roger keeps chasin' me with bugs!" Rae cried. She was, after all, slightly traumatized of bugs. "Hit him!"

The rest of the memories of the school came back as he looked around. Sometimes she was there; sometimes he simply was left to wish he was. So he had always felt this way about her?

"So… this is how I'm supposed to remember, Rae?"

"I dunno…" she said, "did it work?"

"Y-yeah" he looked away blushing, and he didn't know why.

She put a hand on his shoulder, "C'mon, we have to get back or they'll know I kidnapped you." But he couldn't hear her, she was touching him again. But why just his shoulder? Why not his neck, or chest, or something? And why did he care?

"What did you say, Rae?" He almost commented on the rhyme until—

"DON'T you dare say it! Yes it rhymes! And it also rhymes with 'Hey!'" she went on, exasperated. She was so cute when she was annoyed. "I said we have to go back, and we can sneak back out tomorrow."

He grinned at her. She blushed and looked away. Maybe it was mutual? Then she took off running, yelling "Race ya!"

He let her win.

He had another dream that night. His worse.

"Bring me a drink." He ordered. The responded like dogs to their pack leader, with an instantaneous and automatic, almost mechanic quality. The roasting pig reeked of savagery and the fire cast evil shadows. Like systematic Nazi's they all moved in their particular fashions. Part of the dance.

The Chief was covered in his paints: blacks, reds, green, masking and destroying whoever he had been. A scream shot out and a figure jumped from the woods. They "assumed it was the beast. The screaming and hitting and chanting gave them the appeal of lions pouncing on their prey. They knew now what they were doing. They recognized nothing but their chant. Their creed.

"KILL THE PIG! SLIT HER THROAT! BASH HER IN!" The fire shot beams of light, illuminating the hell that had become the island, where the Chief, corrupted by the Lord of the Flies, sat watching his demons. The sky was still black. The bodies crammed into a dense ball. The blood. When they pulled away they knew there had been no beast.

And the screams echoed on.


	4. Held You?

But of course the screaming was hisown. It was dark outside, but somehow Rae was there, concern written once again into her face, his favorite book.

"Rae, how did you _get here_?" He asked.

"My ride had to drop me off early."

"Early? What time _is it_?"

"It's Goin' on like Four AM. Go back to sleep Jack."

"I.. can't. I have these nightmares And… I guess… I'm afraid of whatever horrible thing I did that I'm just gonna end up seeing next."

She looked confused.

"I—I dream about what I did on the Island. The murders and the hunts and betrayals and one day I—I'll be able to tell you everything but not right now." He admitted, indignant.

"Really? And you can't sleep?" she asked, "well… what if I… h-helllll-held you?" she forced out the word "held" and looked away.

He lightly grabbed her arm. "Please, Rae."

He moved over to make room for her, and she laid down next to him. She faced his back and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his neck. And it all felt so simple, pure, clean, and… innocent. And he didn't want to mess it up. And he didn't have to fight the Chief for dominance because he HAD the dominance. Because he was in charge of himself. Finally. And he slept. And he didn't have a nightmare. He dreamt:

Angelic voices sand out, ringing like bells. The highest voice, and most recognizable, was his own. He was blinded (as usual) by the elaborate lighting. He could hear Simon next to him, his voice the most angelic and the most pure of all of them. It paralleled his role on the Island. The only good, pure thing there was.

The song ended and the boys filed off of the stage, following Jack, the head-of-the-choir. He looked around, subconsciously, for Rae. _Where was she?_ She was so unpredictable. There was an empty seat, belonging to Rae, next to Roger's mother. Even in his dream he wanted to be with her.

They walked to the changing room and changed back out of cloaks and hambone frills. And he still couldn't find her.


	5. Release

He felt movement beside him and he jerked away. Movement at night always _always _meant attack. He reached out and grabbed whatever was touching him.

A squeal?

Rae.

He dropped her wrist. He didn't remember she was there and— he cried. He had hurt her, just like he knew he would because the Chief had to be there, mocking him, making him remember whatever horrible thing he had done, still longing to be in control of him. He sobbed and she held onto him, not angry, but understanding. Rubbing her fingers through his hair and trying to calm him. He gave her control. But that was so backward. Shouldn't he be in control of the situation? Wasn't he always in control? But he needed her.

"I- I'm s-s-s-sorry, Rae." He coughed through tears. "Movement a-at night just a-a-always me-means someone i-is attacking. A-and I d-didn't know i-it was y-you."

"Shhh," she said, "I know. Roger attacked me yesterday and I accidentally walked by him while he was sleeping on the couch."

Roger did WHAT? Jack would kill him. NO! Not kill. Hurt, quite possibly, but kill was taboo. It was of the Island.

They snuck out again that day. This time they walked without speaking. When he wasn't remembering small things, a game of tag, or a small argument, he was hurting. Hurting because he wanted to hold her hand but knew he couldn't.

_Remembering_. He had already remembered everything he needed. He remembered fights and promises and recitals and races. He remembered love and hate and envy and excitement. He felt, however, like there was once piece missing, which, we can only weakly describe as a missing piece to a complex and detailed puzzle. That dream haunted him, mocking him and masking that ONE memory that somehow seemed to be the most important one.

"Rae," he broke the silence. "Um… I had a dream last night and I wanted to know if it happened before, but I woke up before I could find out."

"What happened?"

"Well I was at a performance, the last choir performance." He just remembered that last bit, "and I walked off stage and I couldn't find you cuz you weren't with your mom."

"Y-yeah, that happened." She said, but she didn't look or sound confident, she had more sadness about features. "Do you remember anything else from the dream?"

"It was the night I left for the Island, right?" We sang one last time and then there was the evacuation." He said, remembering.

Her face… fell? "Yeah, Jack, that's pretty much it."

They went back. She left. He had a nightmare again.

"You're a beast, a swine…" the voice trailed on, calling him a thief. Really? Ralph thought he could say that? The Chief snarled and moved snakishly around in the circle of hunter. Hatred ran thought his veins like a poison. Like venom. Sharp movements, sharp orders. The King of the Cobras. He shed his savage skin for that of a more murderous tint.

"Don't leave me!" Complaining about glasses and Piggy rang though the scene.

"I GOT THE CONCH!"

AND NO ONE CARED! He was Chief! He was King Cobra! He didn't care about some republican conch that sought to control his actions, words, and power. No.

Suddenly a heave, a creak, and a crash. The rock smashed though the trees and hit Piggy. The same venom overtook the Chief, its source unknown. Joy? Joy or hate? Joy sprung from hate? He didn't know. He watched the shell and it's keeper break and shatter. He screamed savagely, directing the hunters into Ralph's pursuit. He hung back, the venom-high crashing. He and Roger ordering, so firmly "You gotta join our tribe."

He awoke to what he assumed was Samneric's screaming. But it was his own. And… Rae wasn't there to take the terror away.

"Mister Merridew…" the door opened and the lab-coat man entered the room. "You've made remarkable progress. You will be check out today."

The man left but… Jack wasn't ready to go. He still needed that single memory, the one that haunted him and made him so curious. And this place, this was his comfort zone. How could he leave and go somewhere uncontrolled? Somewhere were the Chief could be in charge? But nevertheless he went back. Back home, to his mother and her hysterical "I love yous" a million times over and once added. And he wished Rae would say it.


	6. Last Memory

He decided to go walking by the river. Something about that river reminded him of Rae. He watched the calm waters, the fish. This was a fishing spot, meaning he would soon come across piers. And for some reason he was drawn that that idea of finding the pier. And he did. He stopped short of the pier, a memory was returning. _Please God, let it be the last one_ he prayed.

"Mrs. Starr, where's Rae?" he asked Roger's mom.

"Oh, honey, she went down to the pier for some air." Roger and Rae's mom said. "She looked upset, and you always make her feel better, maybe you could go check on her?"

H-he made her feel better? He ran through the crowd and into the cold and piercing air. It cut his lungs like daggers. The river. Why in the world would the girl go there? He needed to face it, though. _He loved her_. Too much. He knew he was young, but he really did love her. He liked how she needed him to make the bad things and the monsters go away.

Speaking of badness and crying, he was her sitting under the pier. As he approached her he heard her sobbing. He saw her body shaking. Did she knew, by some horrible twist of fate, that he was leaving?

"Rae?" he asked.

"J-Jack?" she coughed, sobbing and coughing on her tears.

"Shhh, Rae." He tried to go calm her. "It's okay."

"N-no," she said, "we're getting evacuated b-because of the threats a-and we're headed t-to different places. I'll miss you s-so much."

She would miss him? "Rae, they'll fly us back."

"Th-that doesn't help wh-when I'll still miss you." She cried.

"Rae—"

"And you'll forget all about me and find some other girl a--" She stopped, because she'd said too much.

He pulled her head to his shoulder. "Rae, what if we make a pact?" he asked, "and when we get back, we'll meet down here, under this pier, and talk about us?"

"Really, Jack?" she asked, all her attention on him.

"Yeah."

She stood to leave and hugged him tightly. He loved how she felt when she was pressed against him, her warmth in the cold.


	7. Magnetism

Yes. Yes that was the last memory, and he knew he should be under that pier until it rotted, waiting for her. She was already there.

"Rae!" She was crying again, when he called her name,

"J-jack. Y-you-?"

He sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder. And with his free hand he played with her hair.

"Shh… Rae, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I just, I just want you to remember what you said down here, before we left and you got… Stranded?"

Could he go through with this? Could he tell her he remembered? What if he ended up losing to the Chief? What if… what if he hurt her, or did something completely unforgivable? He could lie, and say he didn't know, that he didn't remember, but she'd been through so much. She helped him. She held him. She never pried for information and she just listened intently, her expression shading over parts of her face, making her somewhat like a mirror to his tone. She was so _special_. Could he risk whatever the Chief would do? Or… could he control it? He would have to, he couldn't live without her.

"But I do." He said. "I just did a-an…" he stopped talking and finally looked into her eyes. They were so blue. Like the purest water, completely innocent, and giving the impression of an immunity to any toxin the Chief could throw in them. Blue meant reflection of the sky. His sky, symbolizing his dreams of peace, and control, was reflected in those eyes. And… and… they looked almost like pools. And he wanted to sink down to the bottom and hide in them, allowing himself to drown in her security.

He felt drawn to her, their lips like magnets.

"Please," she said, almost begging, just for one kiss. Nothing dirty, or wrong, or anything like that. Just a simple kiss.

And so, he closed the spaces between their lips.


End file.
